


We Live To Serve

by chacah



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chacah/pseuds/chacah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cipher Nine returns to the ship late and impatient. Vector plans on seeing their game through, and he refuses to back down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Live To Serve

The Song sang to him, electrodes humming and buzzing, tittering about as they always did during his commune with the nest. Auras twisting and swirling, bending and flaring. But nothing prepared him for the hand to his throat, nor the wall that connected with his back before a nose was burying into his neck.

The growl from the man that had pinned him was guttural, deep, and the Joiner could do nothing but quirk his lips up ever so slightly, his agent’s scent wafting through his senses and almost flooring him. “You’re _late_ …” That sultry voice came to Hyllus’s ears, causing a slight shudder to run down the Dawn Herlad’s spine. “You were supposed to be…”

The sentence was never finished as their positions were flipped, the agent moaning out as his back collided with the wall he had been using a moment ago. “Agent…” Vector purred, causing the now pinned operative to shiver in desire, instantly becoming hard. “Shall we dance once more? See who wins?”

A wicked smirk came to the agent’s lips, his hands coming up to pull the Joiner closer to him, hips rocking together in absolute desire and need. “Who will lead this time, I wonder…”

“Let the pleasure be ours,” Vector bowed his head as he started to unbutton the agent’s pants, only to have the spy buck his hips and spin free before taking the Dawn Herald to the ground. Once more pinned, Vector’s hand came up to slide into the agent’s skintight pants, fingers edging closer to that spot that he knew would have the man above him moaning out before going limp. “Your aura is fierce today, agent… Shall we sing together?”

“Lets,” the agent moaned out as hands found their way under the Joiner’s shirt, squeezing over nipples and feeling silky flesh beneath calloused fingertips. The sharp intake of breath only spurred the agent onward, hands yanking at material, silently swearing in every language he knew.

Too much clothing, too hot, too impatient. He needed Vector and he needed him now.

“We have ached for you… _agent_...” Vector whispered to him in that voice that set the agent’s blood on fire, his gut igniting into an inferno.

But the game wasn’t done. _Oh no_ , he wouldn’t give in that easily. The agent grinned devilishly before pulling Vector’s shirt the whole way off of him, tossing it across the cargo bay. The dance they swayed to, the game they played, was dangerous and fun, and as piece by piece of clothing went to the wayside, revealing more and more skin, the ante was upped.

A week.

One _whole_ week.

They had been apart an _entire_ week. And the agent could not keep his hands off of that supple skin, gaze into those fathomless dark eyes that took him places nothing else could. The agent had thought long and hard on how exactly to take his time, second by second, marvel by marvel with the Joiner’s actions. And he would act it out once he had won.

Without warning, the operative’s world spun before he was pinned upon the metal floor, the cold seeping into his back and causing a hiss to leave his lips before they were captured by the diplomat that was _oh-so-much-more_.

“ _Vector_ ,” the whisper was moaned sensually, causing Hyllus above him to freeze for only a second. But a second was enough.

Once more they rolled, over and over, battling for control of the situation, bodies interlocking together and breath intermingling together until finally they crashed against the wall, lips meeting one another once more and hands becoming desperate.

“I _need_ you,” the agent urged, hands moving to cup the bulge within the Joiner’s pants. “ _Now_ …”

“We find this comforting… _agent_ ,” was the reply received, a jovial bounce to the nuance within the chords. “For we need you as well…” And then Vector’s lips were brushing against the agent’s ear, causing the spy to shudder visibly, “submit and we shall give you what you wish…”

A part of the operative wished to just do that… To give in and receive what he justly wanted. But another part of him wished to win, to dominate the Dawn Herald, to slide within him and make the dark eyed man cry out his name, his real name.

“We aim to please, _agent_ ,” Vector’s silky voice brought the operative out of his inner thoughts, and the moan as well as the buck of the hips caused the upturn of the diplomat’s lips. “We live to serve…”

It was then that the agent’s pants were stripped by Vector, the Joiner’s hands coming up to grip the spy’s ass before his wrists were caught and pulled away, a bottle of lube being placed into the hands. When the agent spoke next, his vocals were broken, “You… You win… I submit…”

Those words…

Always those words…

They were his downfall, would _always_ be his downfall. But he wouldn’t admit it, would never admit it.

And as a finger, slick and skilled, slipped within him, his back arched up off of the floor. But his undoing came from those velvety lips that wrapped around his weeping cock, those eyes so deep and intelligent staring up at him. The cry that was on the tip of his tongue slipped off of it, echoing around the metallic room they were in, and the agent no longer cared if anyone else heard them.

He would receive his release, as would his Dawn Herald. And both would then lie tangled amongst one another, panting and basking in the love they had for one another. That feral need that seemed to hum between the two of them.


End file.
